Choice
by MajorSam
Summary: When confronted with an impossible choice, Lucy does the only thing she can... Continue to help others, no matter the cost to herself.
1. Chapter 1

**Choice**

 **By: MajorSam**

This fic literally came to me in a dream. I woke up, walked about in a daze at work thinking about it all day, then spent the rest of the night feverishly writing the entire thing in one fell swoop. I haven't stayed up so late writing in possibly years. The dream will be described in a note at the end, for anyone who's interested! This is a 2-shot story.

Set several months after Season 2 finale, after Rufus is saved.

* * *

"So what'll it be, Princess?"

If looks could kill, Emma Whitmore would be in pieces on the ground. Instead she continued to stand there, smirking, a simple goblet held in her hand.

"One last time. You? Or him?"

Lucy looked at the phone in Emma's other hand. The live camera feed glowed in bright HD. Lucy still didn't understand how she'd managed to make Skype work in 1978 but couldn't care less at that moment. The only thought on her mind was of what the phone was showing. Wyatt. In a room eerily like her own.

Except Wyatt had a gun pressed to his head.

Emma raised the goblet in front of her.

"You. Or him."

 **2 hours earlier**

"Why the hell would Rittenhouse want to _stop_ the Jonestown Massacre?"

Lucy threw her hands up in the air in frustration as they trudged towards the compound. "I told you, Wyatt, I have no idea. But that's the main thing that happened on November 18, 1978, in Guyana, which is exactly when and where Emma went."

"Well if she's trying to stop it, I say let her! We could save over 900 people."

Lucy closed her pinched eyes and rubbed a hand over her forehead. "Please, Wyatt. Can we not get into this moral debate this time? Not again."

"Why the hell not? There are lives at stake here, and-"

"So we really think she's trying to stop it?" Rufus loudly and pointedly cut in. "Not, say, make it even worse?"

Flynn snorted. "How could she make it worse? Somehow recruit a couple more hundred cultists to be gathered up for mass murder/suicide?"

"For the last time, I have no idea!" Lucy shouted. "I don't have every goddamn answer every goddamn time, okay?" She took off in front of the group, grateful she was able to wear pants for this mission.

The men passed around surprised looks. The historian had been getting edgier and edgier of late but had never blown up like that before.

"You guys track down Congressman Ryan at the airport," Wyatt commanded quickly. "I'll take Lucy and find Jones. Meet back at the lifeboat."

The solider hurried after Lucy, matching her pace but not speaking a word. She glanced over at him several times, waiting for him to break the silence, but he didn't.

She finally broke, huffing "Just spit it out!"

"Spit what out?"

"Whatever it is you want to say so badly."

"I don't want to say anything. Seems you might have something to say though."

"Oh do I?"

He shrugged. "You tell me."

She let out an exasperated growl. "All I have to say is let's finish this mission and get the hell home."

"Didn't you say something like that last mission too?"

"Yeah, well, missions lately suck, so…"

"Haven't they always?"

She shrugged half-heartedly. "Not always…"

He studiously avoided meeting her eyes as a quick slideshow of memories flashed unbidden through his minds eye. No, they hadn't always sucked. They used to be, perverse as it may seem, fun, exciting, fulfilling.

Romantic.

But ever since Rufus died, then came back… things were different. Everyone was tense, all the time, strained and brittle. They were all so happy that Rufus was back, but they'd all had to bottle it up, afraid to show it because Rufus didn't remember dying. He didn't and couldn't know what all they'd gone through. It freaked him out when he caught them staring at him, when they touched him more than they used to, just to make sure he was real. No one was sleeping well, especially Jiya, too afraid she'd fall into a vision of him dying again, of finding out it was inevitable, and all had been for nought. Emma continued to ravage time, never giving them a break, her actions unpredictable and seemingly without pattern, driving them all to epic levels of frustration and Jessica… the whole saga just continued to drag on. Wyatt hadn't had a moment alone with Lucy except on missions where a talk, a real talk, was not possible. In the bunker she'd grown more and more distant before finally avoiding him entirely. He could tell.

And he didn't know how the hell to fix it. Any of it. The team was breaking, if not already broken, and they'd all just let it happen.

By the time Wyatt shook himself out of his musings he found they were already nearing their destination. They quickly blended into the crowd of Jones' followers and started subtly inquiring about a redheaded woman. They persuaded a troubled looking young woman into revealing that a new redhead had indeed shown up that day. She'd seen the redhead confer with Jones himself just a few minutes prior, offering the man a flask before they'd walked into a private room. The pair quickly found Jones, alone, and about to drink from the flask. A heated but silent argument occurred between the time-travellers before they finally stopped him from drinking from it. They left as quickly as they'd come, hoping to find Emma somewhere still in the throng.

She found them instead.

Not even Wyatt had heard them coming amidst the noise of the busy community, distressed by the visit from the Congressman. Before he or Lucy knew what was happening there were guns digging into their backs and whispers in their ears to keep walking like nothing was wrong. They were herded along until the group was free and clear of the compound before Emma gave the order to separate them.

"No!" Wyatt growled, trying to fight off the two men that grabbed his arms. Emma put a stop to his defiance with a simple raise of her arm, gun pressed to Lucy's head. They were each thrown into a 4x4, speeding away from the church's land. The drive was relatively short, less than ten minutes, and Lucy figured she had tracked the direction with relative accuracy. She could find the Lifeboat. She just needed to find Wyatt first. When she was pushed out of the car, however, the other was nowhere to be seen. She looked around wildly, trying to spot it in the distance.

"Oh he's close, don't you worry your pretty little head," Emma cooed. Lucy was corralled by a goon into a tiny room in a small, unmarked building.

"You don't seem too upset that we stopped Jones' death," the professor observed.

Emma shrugged. "Poison the poisoner. Would've been amusingly fitting, don't you think?"

"You're sick."

Emma shrugged again. "Oh well. He wasn't why I'm really here, anyways."

It dawned on Lucy in an instant. "It was all a set up. A lure to get us here."

The woman sauntered up and patted Lucy on the cheek in the most patronizing way possible. "Good girl. A+ for teacher!"

Lucy bit the cheek she'd patted until it bled, her fists balled at her sides to keep from striking out. She was outnumbered, and all too aware of how better a fighter Emma was than her. She wouldn't win this with force.

"So what's it to be, then?" Lucy stood tall, squaring her shoulders.

Emma reached into her jacket pocket and removed a flask, waggling it in the air. Lucy's felt a squeeze around her heart. A henchman suddenly produced a small, wooden goblet and handed it to Emma. She poured the contents of the flask into it. Lucy snorted.

"A goblet? Really? What is this, Indiana Jones? A bit dramatic, even for you."

"Oh I disagree," she shook her head. "You need something special to accompany _this_ show."

Lucy's dread grew exponentially as she watched Emma hand off the goblet and take out a modern cell phone, one of the huge ones with the big, wide screens. She tapped the screen a few times and turned the phone to Lucy.

Wyatt. With a gun to his head.

"How the hell did you…" Lucy trailed off as the man holding the gun struck Wyatt on the head.

"No!" she cried out, stepping towards the phone.

Emma laughed. "Don't worry. That was just a little nudge. He's under orders not to kill him. Not unless you say so."

"Unless I say so?" Lucy repeated faintly.

"That's right, my dear." Emma grabbed the goblet back and walked to stand directly in front of her, towering above her. "You get to choose. Your life. Or his."

"Fuck you," Lucy spat.

Emma burst into laughter. "Lucy, I didn't know you had it in you!"

The historian ground her teeth together to stop herself from lashing out again. Or to stop herself crying. She wasn't sure which. A quick scan of the room resulted in the same conclusion as her first. There were no weapons, only the one door, and way too many bad guys in the way.

There was no way out.

She looked at the video. If she refused the drink…

A kaleidoscope of images assaulted her. The first time she'd met Wyatt, the look of his little smirk morphing into his wide, terrified eyes as she fought to save his life at the Alamo. Wyatt asking for her help to steal the lifeboat and save Jessica. Seeing him alive after 6 weeks of thinking he was dead.

Hollywood.

Jessica's return. Jessica, who was pregnant.

Then Lucy saw herself, the path her life had taken the last few years, what she'd become...

"So what'll it be, Princess?"

If looks could kill, Emma Whitmore would be in pieces on the ground. Instead she continued to stand there, smirking, the simple goblet held in her hand.

"You or him?"

Lucy looked at the phone in Emma's other hand. The live camera feed glowed in bright, colourful HD. Emma raised the goblet in front of her.

"One last time. You. Or him."

There wasn't even a choice to be made. Not really. The answer was obvious. With a final, defiant glare, Lucy grabbed the goblet and brought it to her lips, gulping it back in one, long drag. When finished she threw it to the ground, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Happy now?"

Emma grinned ferally. "You have no idea."

Lucy raised her eyebrows pointedly at the phone in Emma's hand. The redhead raised it up and spoke. "Let him go."

Lucy watched with bated breath as the gun against Wyatt's head was pulled away. The hand holding it jerked it to the side, telling Wyatt to leave. The soldier frowned and stared suspiciously, but swiftly exited the room. The knot in Lucy's heart loosened.

"Go," Emma nodded at the door, 100% sure of her success. "Enjoy your last precious seconds with him. I know I enjoyed ours."

"Fuck you, Emma."

The woman laughed. "Oh my, Professor. Such harsh words for ones that may be your last."

Lucy scowled and again debated the risk versus reward of punching the woman. She decided getting the hell away from her was a better idea.

"We'll see," Lucy growled before slamming the door behind her.

* * *

She met up with Wyatt in the woods some twenty minutes later, both heading back to the lifeboat as per the standing orders if anyone ever got split up.

"Lucy! You okay?"

She slowed down to greet him, taking longer than should be needed to even her breathing before replying. "Fine. You?"

"Fine."

She nodded, still trying to suck in deep breaths. "Let's go then." She started off but was stalled after only a step by Wyatt's hand on her arm.

"You sure?"

She looked up into his blue eyes, peering down at her with a strange look in them.

"Of course," she said shortly.

"Cause you don't actually look so good."

She frowned, a hand rising to her chest to feel her rapidly pounding heart. "Just winded."

"You look flushed."

"Well I have been running for the past twenty minutes." She rolled her eyes and got going again. He let out a frustrated sigh but ran to catch up with her, jogging easily at her side. They ran for five more minutes before Wyatt stopped her once again.

"Okay Lucy, seriously, what's wrong?"

"Wha… what're you talking about?" she tried to brush him off but she was having too much trouble breathing to put much force into it. Nausea was starting to churn around her stomach.

"You've been steadily slowing down since we began. We're barely power walking now."

"I'm just… tired."

"That's a load of crap," he barked. "We've been through way worse than this. Now I need you to tell me what's wrong so I can figure out how to fix it."

She puffed out a breath of air and darkly muttered "Too late for that."

"Excuse me?" his face was etched in a deep frown now, stepping right up into her personal space. She lifted her eyes up to his and with a glare repeated herself.

"I said it's too late for that!"

"What the hell does that mean?"

She sullenly looked away, staring at the trees, a branch on the grass, anything but him.

"Lucy," he said softly, true worry seeping into his voice. "What have you done?"

"I did what was best for the team."

He was silent for a long moment. So long that she finally dared to look up at him. She wished she hadn't.

Fear. His face was steeped in it. Pure, raw, fear.

"Lucy," he whispered. "What did you do?"

Her bottom lip trembled as the words started bubbling out.

"I drank it."

"Drank what?"

She looked away. She couldn't bear to see his face as he realized. "The stuff. Whatever the hell it was that Emma tried to kill Jones with. I drank it."

Hearing his choked exhale was almost as bad as seeing his face.

"You… _what_?"

Lucy squeezed her eyes shut as tears started to form. "Emma had a phone. I saw you, saw the whole thing. She said she'd let you go if I drank it. So I did."

He made a noise she'd never heard any man make before. Her gaze flickered automatically to his, reflexes too slow to stop herself. His eyes were wide, wet, horrified.

"W…" he could barely speak. "Why would you do that?"

"Because he had a gun to your head!"

"So what?"

"So wha… are you _kidding_ me?"

"I'm the soldier, Lucy. I'm supposed to be the one with guns pointed at me! I'm the expendable one!"

"No you're _not_!" she yelled. "I am! Don't you get it?"

"NO!" he screamed back.

"I'm just a stupid, clumsy book nerd who's traveled through time and screwed so much of it up that I don't even know what the hell actually happened when anymore. I'm useless to the team now, just a walking liability. Plus _I'm_ the one Rittenhouse wants dead. You'll all be better off, _safer_ , without me."

"You don't actually believe that bullshit, do you?"

"It's true, whether you want to believe it or not. It was you or me, and I chose me." She turned her back to him.

"But Lucy," he grabbed her arm forcefully. "You-"

"I what?" she wrenched her arm away but turned to fully face him. "Have so much to live for? Tell me, Wyatt, what are those things? What do I have?"

"You-"

"A sister who doesn't exist and probably never will, a dead, evil cultist maniac of a mother, her blood legacy that makes me, for the rest of my life, no matter what I do, the number one assassination target for said evil time travelling cult, who we probably won't ever stop… I'm a failure and a fugitive, in hiding, in a literal piece of shit hole in the ground-"

"Us!" he shouts through her tirade. "You have us!"

"Oh really?" her eyes were blazing with fury now. "Do I? No one even talks to each other anymore! Ever since Rufus came back we're all so caught up in trying to act normal and ignore how badly it screwed us all up that we can't even look at each other! Jiya's losing her mind from lack of sleep and fear of more visions, Rufus tries to pretend we don't stare at him like he's a ghost, Flynn, the ex-terrorist who used to try murder me every week is the only person I can _kind of_ talk to but is obsessed with some parallel version of me he reads about in a _book_ -"

"What about me?"

She threw her head back and laughed. "What about you Wyatt? You made your choice, and it wasn't me."

He opened his mouth to protest but Lucy had had it. If this really was it, there was no time for lies anymore.

"You made your choice, and I had to live with it. Live with you throwing confidentiality to the wind and telling Jessica everything, breaking her into the bunker, parading her around… drinking myself numb while trying not to cry myself to sleep every night as I listened to the sounds of you two _fucking_."

He winced as she spat the last word.

"I'm just... tired. So sick of it all. I really just did myself a favour," she declared and stormed off.

"No!" he cried out. "You can _not_ talk like that."

"I don't take orders, remember, Master Sergeant?"

"Goddamnit Lucy! You can't do this to me!"

"Why not? You'll finally be free of me and all the guilt and pity that screams at me on the rare occasion you can even look me in the eye."

"I was wrong, okay! I was wrong, I know, you always knew it, hell everyone always knew it!"

"At last he says it out loud," she rolls her eyes sarcastically.

"But Jessica was never my choice, okay?"

She laughs bitterly. "Right."

"She wasn't! Maybe it seemed like she was but I swear to God, Lucy, in my heart I always knew."

"Don't do this," she shook her head, a tear finally breaching the wall of her eye and dripping down.

"You were always my first choice, Lucy, always. I was just too stupid and proud to admit it. And then when Jessica ran off…"

"No!" Lucy shook her head, tears falling steadily now. "You don't get to say stuff like this. Not now. It's too late."

"I thought we'd have more time," he pleaded. "I just… the stuff with Rufus… everything you just said was true. We're screwed up. I wanted to wait for things to settle, so we could start fresh and do it _right_ this time."

"I don't believe you," she sobbed. Her knees were going weak and she could barely keep herself upright. "Don't say things when you don't _mean_ them!"

"I do!"

"No you don't!" she shrieked. "How can you say that when you and I both know the _second_ Jessica shows up again, you'll abandon the mission and run straight to her? Just like you do _every single time_."

"If I follow her it doesn't mean I love her!"

"Then what the hell _does_ it mean?"

"I…"

Lucy brought shaky hands up to her face, digging shaking palms into her eyes, trying to stop the flow of tears. She felt so sick, light-headed, her heart pounding too fast and a ringing growing louder in her ears. Wyatt was still speaking but she had to fight to hear the words and make sense of them.

"-It's like if Amy came back Rittenhouse. You'd still try to help her every time you saw her, wouldn't you?"

"Amy wasn't my wife," she retorted. Had her words just slurred?

"The Jessica we know is _not_ my wife," he said vehemently. "She never was. I've accepted it. I don't love _her_ , Lucy, I never did. But…"

"But she's going to be the mother of your child," Lucy finished softly. Wyatt went quiet. She looked up at him. "And that's why it had to be me."

He shook his head and she realized tears were falling down his cheeks as well.

"You're going to be a father, Wyatt." She couldn't help the faint smile that crossed her face. She'd once, in a moment of pure, foolish hope, let herself imagine what that would be like. Wyatt as a dad. A beautiful child with his blue eyes and her dark hair. "You're going to be a dad, and that's why I had to drink it." She slowly approached him, a trembling hand rising to caress his cheek. Her thumb wiped at his tears.

"I couldn't let that child grow up without a father. Without you. I just… I couldn't."

"Lucy," he choked, bringing both his hands up to cup her face. The flush had left her cheeks. She'd gone unnaturally pale, her skin coated in clammy sweat. She smiled at him briefly, that beautiful, coy, thing he loved.

Then her eyes lost their focus and her hand suddenly dropped to her side.

"Lucy?"

She tried to look at him, her mouth working open and closed as if to speak but her body started curving into itself and a small noise escaped her.

"Lucy, what's happening? What can I do?"

The sound she was making grew louder and her body started to shake. He wrapped his arms around her and helped her to the ground, chanting her name.

"Hu… hurts," she gasped, one hand pressing above her heart while the other dug into her stomach.

"What can I do?" he asked again, frantic.

She looked up at him with frightened eyes and no answers. The big, brown eyes suddenly slammed shut, body jerking as her head tipped back.

She screamed.

She was dying in his arms and Wyatt had no clue what to do, no way to help her.

"Lucy, please," he begged. "Just hold on! Please, you have to. You have to give me a chance to fix all this, please, Luce. I love you!"

He didn't know if the sounds she made were from physical or emotional pain. He tried to pick her up but her body jolted wildly as she screamed again. This time she didn't stop. She felt like she was on fire, burning from the inside out, every nerve doused in flame. Wyatt tried to settle her down, adjust her body into the recovery position, thrust his fingers down his throat to try to get her to throw the poison up but nothing worked.

Then he heard footsteps, running right towards them. He panicked, gathering Lucy up tightly in his arms, protecting her body with his as he looked around the forest floor for anything he could use as a weapon.

"Wyatt!"

He looked up, dazed with shock as Rufus and Flynn burst out from behind a large tree.

"We heard screaming, what the…"

"Oh my god, Lucy!"

They rushed forwards, dropping to their knees besides the huddled figures just as Lucy started coughing. Strangely coloured foam bubbled up from her throat and dribbled out of her mouth. Was she choking, drowning, suffocating? Her eyes rolled back in her head and suddenly she was convulsing wildly.

"Help!" Wyatt screamed.

The men held her down as gently as they could, trying to stop her from hurting herself further. After what seemed like hours but was only minutes her body went abruptly still, sick, gurgling screams cutting off like she'd been muted. The harsh breathing of the men was all that filled the space for a few seconds before Wyatt was flying to his feet, Lucy in his arms.

" _MOVE_!" he roared.

They made the three-minute trip to the lifeboat in less than one. There was no way they could have made it so close just to lose their professor now.

* * *

To Be Continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Wyatt was screaming for doctors before the Lifeboat door was even open. A barrage of questions assailed him but he ignored them all, barrelling his way to the infirmary and refusing to leave Lucy's side until the doctors kicked him out, claiming he was in the way and putting her at risk.

The next several hours were pure, unadulterated hell. What the hell could possibly be taking so long? Lucy had been poisoned. Didn't they just need to pump her stomach or something for Christ's sake? The soldier spent the entire time pacing before the infirmary door, hands in his hair, or the back of his neck, or in fists at his side, guilt wracking him and stripping him raw. They'd been arguing. He'd been spiking her adrenaline, making her blood pump, making the poison flow faster and faster. If she died… It would be his fault. He was sure of it. If he'd only just chosen to shut up, to listen, to simply throw her over his shoulder and get them home faster... But he hadn't. He'd gone with the flow, like he had when Jessica had arrived. He was so sick of letting things happen, turning a blind eye and waiting for the 'right moment' to say and do what he needed to do. He was done with it all. He made a choice, right then, to take back control of his life and his relationships. He made a choice that no matter what happened he would be there for Lucy. No matter what.

Rufus brought a chair over from the kitchen table and was sitting beside the door, knees shaking nervously up and down. Flynn claimed another chair and sat against the wall facing the door, arms crossed and still as stone, glaring at the door like he could affect the actions within with his mind. Denise had thrown herself into the paperwork and reports necessary of life-threatening incidents. Jiya alternated between comforting Rufus, and by extension herself, and trying to keep Mason calm as he wandered frenetically throughout the bunker, wishing he knew less about mechanics and more about medicine.

Everybody was standing at attention the second the medical doors opened. The doctor's face was grave. Wyatt felt his heart drop to his feet.

"She'll live," the doctor hedged. "But…"

* * *

Lucy felt like she was floating. But not in the nice, surfing a cloud in dreamland kind of way. It was like she was underwater. Deep underwater, where the pressure squeezed you from all sides and you felt like you couldn't move. Like she was in the car again, under the river, unable to escape… She woke gasping weakly for air.

She was alive?

"Lucy!"

Her head lolled towards the familiar voice but she couldn't open her eyes. They were too heavy, stuck to her eyelids, the world beyond too bright.

"Lucy, it's okay, I'm here. You're safe."

She tried again, opening her eyes to bare slits.

Wyatt.

Hovering over her, holding her hand, tears in his eyes. She tried to speak. And failed.

"Here," he moved quickly to place a few ice chips between her dry, cracked lips.

"You don't have to speak," he assured her gently. "Just rest, okay?"

She tried to nod. Unsure if she succeeded or not, she drifted back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~  
She was still floating when she woke next, but the hinge of her jaw had come loose.

"Wyatt," she croaked.

He was still there. He brought her water again, this time in a small plastic cup with a straw. She sucked feebly at the lukewarm water as she realized he had a beard. Not like the future Wyatt had had, but still. It was there. She frowned.

"How long…"

He swallowed thickly. "Um… three weeks."

She sucked in a ragged breath.

"And you'll be in here for… well, a while longer."

She wanted to ask what that meant but was already so tired from the short discourse. He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand and urged her to sleep.

* * *

The third time she woke up she was aware enough to feel the pain.

Everywhere.

Every fibre of her being ached. It was like her insides had been flayed, torn open and washed with acid.

She tried to move, alleviate some of it, anywhere, but gasped as a distinct, sharp pain lanced through her. She tried to clutch at her side but her arm was so heavy…

"No." Hands gently cupped her own hand between them. "You can't… don't touch it."

"What...?"

She was finally able to focus on his face. The dark bags under his eyes. The pale skin under the unkempt beard. He hastily offered her the usual cup of water. She licked her lips slowly after a long draw.

"What happened?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face, rubbed at his eyes. She saw they were red, and watery.

"You, uh…" his voice was thin, and wavered. "It was bad. You flatlined a few times, at the beginning."

She found she was holding her breath as he talked.

"The doctors pulled you back, obviously, but, uh… There was a lot of damage. Everywhere. They uh... they had to remove your spleen. Almost took a kidney too." He didn't even try to hold back his tears now. She was to weak to hold back her own.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, squeezing the hand he still held. "I'm so sorry, Lucy."

"No, Wyatt, you-"

"They don't know if you'll ever fully recover."

Her mouth snapped shut.

"So many systems, organ functions, were so damaged… and the Doctor said the spleen is the thing that's supposed to fight infections and stuff, but now it can't, and everything is weak and more susceptible to infections than ever!" he suddenly stood, dropping her hand to the bed as he started pacing. "If I'd just gotten you home sooner, just stopped fucking yelling at you and gotten you _home_ , the docs could have done more, maybe, or not had to remove your spleen, and I know this is all my fault and I'm just so, so sorry."

He looked at her and crumpled back down in his chair, burying his face in his hands. She was sobbing, in pain and terrified, and he'd let himself freak out, let his own stupid guilt override everything else, as always, and completely overwhelmed her. He really sucked at being there for her.

But he wouldn't give up. He'd keep trying until he got it right.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, taking her hand up once more. "Go back to sleep, Lucy. Rest. Get better. Fuck what the doctors say. You _will_ get better. Fully. Good as new." He reached out to gently wipe some strands of hair off her face. The soft, warm touch lulled her to sleep.

* * *

"…and as Mr. Logan informed you, a splenectomy was necessary. The operation was a success, and thus far there are no signs of infection."

Lucy had lost count of how many times she'd woken up now, or how much time had passed. The memories all blurred together in a hazy mass of pain, confusion, fear, and what she assumed was a heavy cocktail of drugs. Movement was so painful, her joints so stiff, she was essentially paralyzed. She'd apparently finally been deemed aware enough to have The Talk with her doctor though. She'd rather just go back to sleep.

"…and so far your responses have been good, so we're hopeful that no long-term brain damage has occurred, though we'll have to schedule several scans over the next few days-"

"Wait," she interrupted him. "Brain damage?"

The doctor hesitated, glancing at Wyatt, in his usual chair.

"I guess Mr. Logan didn't quite give you all the details."

She looked at the soldier. His jaw clenched, and he refused to look at her.

The doctor cleared his throat. "The toxin you ingested was unique, I dare say custom-made. I've never seen anything like it. Most poisons target a specific system or function, but this was broad-spectrum. It attacked everything, without discrimination, and it was _fast_. With the damage to your other organs, there was a strong possibility that neurological damage would also be present and possibly severe."

The professor looked at Wyatt again. His jaw was quivering.

Three weeks, he'd said. Three weeks before she'd first woken up. He'd spent three weeks wondering if she'd wake up and not even be _her_ anymore. She couldn't imagine going through that. The doctor kept droning on but she didn't hear a word he said. She could barely stay awake for an hour, wasn't yet capable of even contemplating her future. She could only think one thing.

She should've just died.

* * *

Her room was under round the clock surveillance. Christopher was doing all she could to make sure Rittenhouse believe they'd succeeded in killing Lucy, but no chances could be taken. Most of the team wanted Lucy out of the hospital but they also knew her recovery couldn't be rushed. Someone was always with her, Wyatt only agreeing to leave her side once she could stay conscious for the length of a full movie. She assumed he'd had to leave at least a few times while she was sleeping; his hygiene rather lacking but not weeks-without-a-shower bad. For every waking moment thus far, though, he'd been there.

It was driving her crazy.

Why was he even there? Was it guilt? He'd said it himself, if she'd died, he'd have blamed himself. He blamed himself anyways for the state she was in, claiming she'd have been better if they'd gotten home sooner. But who could really know that? No one.

Not that she'd ever convince him of that, though. The man loved his guilt too much. She sighed and closed her eyes, relishing the peace and quiet, though battling with the thoughts it allowed her to ponder.

Love.

The last few minutes of their argument in '78 was hazy, but she remembered that. His final, pleading declaration of love. Once again, only spoken in a time of crisis. Did he actually mean it? Either time? Or was it the guilt pouring out, convincing him he felt more than he did. Could he only love her in life or death situations? Heart racing with adrenaline, blood thumping through his veins? Could he love her in the day-to-day, the boring, the normal? Whatever normal was for them anymore. She didn't know. She was too tired to think about it for too long.

She was tired all the damn time.

She hurt all the damn time. With every breath. Apparently her lungs had been so weak she'd been on a respirator for the first two weeks in hospital. She still felt like there was a weight on her chest, only able to take short, small breaths. She was too weak to hold the plastic cup of water. Too weak too pick up the TV remote. Too weak to sit up on her own. Every movement hurt, muscles shriveled, and joints inflamed. They said she was a medical miracle for surviving. She didn't feel like a miracle.

How long would it last?

How much stronger would she ever get?

What would her life be after she was finally released? She certainly wouldn't be ready to resume missions anytime soon.

If ever.

When would everyone finally get sick of looking after her? When would they realize she was too much of a burden? What would her life be, and would anyone stick around long enough to still be in it?

* * *

Lucy had been in the hospital for three months when Wyatt finally broke. She was growing stronger, though at a snail's pace. The physical therapy was brutal, but she was ready to be released so long as she had 24-hour care. She still needed help getting in and out of bed, up and off chairs and couches, opening doors… so many little things she'd always taken for granted. Homeland security had rented an apartment close to the bunker which she would share.

With Wyatt. Of course. He'd refused to let it be anyone else.

They were waiting for her final paperwork to go through, in the middle of watching a movie when he suddenly expelled a loud breath and roughly grabbed the remote to pause the film.

"Lucy."

She tensed at his tone. Whatever he was about to say, she doubted she was ready to hear.

"You don't have to say anything, but I have to get this out. I'm sorry."

He rarely did anything but apologize these days. At least when the others visited, they said at least a few other words.

"I'm sorry, I know you probably don't want to relive what happened, but a lot of things were said between us, and I just have to say…" he took a deep breath. "It may have been in the heat of the moment, yes, but every word was true, and I'm not taking any of it back. Any of it."

She sucked in a short breath.

"I love you. I shouldn't have waited so long to say it. I shouldn't have waited to start fixing things. I should have seen how badly you were hurting and done something about it before you got to the point of… of being willing to die. Especially for my sake. I meant everything I said, and still believe that most of what you said was bullshit."

She winced.

"You are not useless, you are not a liability, we are not safer without you. Who cares if you get a few historical facts wrong now and then or forget a few things. The timelines are all screwed up, as you said. And all that aside, you are _so much more_ than just a walking encyclopedia. You are the glue that keeps us all together. We _all_ love you. You are the most incredible, strong, stubborn, selfless, purely _good_ person I've ever known. All the shit we've been through, you never gave up. You just kept barrelling forwards and pulling us all with you. No matter the sacrifice to yourself, you always put others' happiness first. I mean, Christ, you literally sacrificed yourself. For me, of all people. You're not a failure, Lucy. You're closer to a Saint."

Helpless tears were running down her cheeks as she shook her head.

"Yes, Lucy. You are. You're the most beautiful, wonderful person in the world, and I love you. I don't care how weak or strong you get to be. I'm going to be here for you, every step of the way. I'm going to fix us like I should have a long time ago."

"What about Jessica?" she croaked.

His face twisted and he looked away.

"Wyatt," she spoke in a low voice. "What aren't you telling me."

He looked at her guiltily. "Umm… she's not a problem anymore."

Lucy gasped. "Did you... did you go on a mission? When? What-"

"Woah, woah, slow down." He put a reassuring hand to her shoulder. "Jiya, Flynn, Rufus, and Mason did."

"Seriously?"

"Well, I wouldn't leave your side, so…"

"And what the hell happened?"

His eyes went dark, his brow furrowing. "Like I said, Jessica's not a problem anymore."

"But Wyatt," her eyes were wide, mouth opening in shock. "The baby…"

He shook his head roughly, swiping at an eye. "There is no baby. There never was."

She stared at him. "What?"

"There was never any baby. You were right. Again. It was all just a ploy to fuck with my head. Don't get to be that dad you tried to save after all."

"Oh, Wyatt…" she raised a hand to his cheek. He sniffed, eyes squeezing shut as he turned into her embrace. She gently guided him towards her, laying his head on her shoulder. He carefully placed an arm across her body, burrowing into her shoulder as his body shook. She could feel her gown grow wet beneath his face.

She cried with him, her mind suddenly made.

He'd said a lot, and while she was still barely ready to think about a future past her next physical therapy session, never mind a future with _him_ , she was ready to start trying. She was making the choice to try to be ready. Try to believe him, trust him, again. Try to be this amazing person he thought she was instead of the pathetic, bitter, depressed thing she'd become.

As she softly stroked through his hair, a vision of him seeped into her senses. He was in a backyard, beautiful green grass everywhere, holding a tiny human being with dark hair and bright blue eyes.

A forbidden feeling bloomed within her chest, her lungs expanding, the first full breath she'd had in months.

Hope.

The End.

* * *

I so wanted to name this fic The Goblet of Fire, buuuuut… for obvious reasons I didn't think that would be wise, lol.

The dream inspiration I had was actually only of a tiny part of this. There was this whole bizarre immersive video game thing I was playing/living, and Lucy was a character. Of course. At some point, I can't remember why, she was poisoned. I can't remember who she was with, either, but I could see her and someone else descending a ladder. Lucy was weak, and in incredible pain, but was trying so hard to get down the ladder, to not let her people down, to save them all. She threw her head back, screaming with effort and pain, and ending up falling, taking out the person below her as well.

The image of her head thrown back, face so pale it was white, screaming in pain, stuck with me. (Lovely dream, I know, haha. It wasn't actually all that bad, just that part) I briefly tried to think of scenarios with our Time Team climbing down a ladder and Lucy screaming and falling, but for some reason, this fic came out instead. And got real angsty. Holy cow.

On a much more personal note, I myself had an unexpected and inexplicable health event when I was 20 that left me essentially paralyzed for a while, like Lucy in this fic. Every joint in my body swelled up, then froze in place. Even trying to uncrook my messed up fingers caused incapacitating pain. I couldn't grip anything so thus couldn't open a door, hold a glass, cut my food, dress myself, get out of bed by myself... And all the while my own immune system was also attacking all my organs and systemic functions. Needless to say, it suuuuucked. However, with good doctors and specialists, the right medications, and solid family/friend support, I eventually got it into remission and basically fully recovered. I'm even going for my second degree black belt soon! All to say... don't worry for Lucy. I think she'll do just fine! Especially with Wyatt by her side 😊

PLEASE let me know what you thought, good, bad, or ugly.

Cheers,  
MajorSam


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